06 May 2011



If you just would let me die
Out here in the ravenous weeds.
Chipped fragments of my body
And peel painted skin flecks
Might go unnoticed
By any eyes but the hungry buzzards’.

If I could strike a match,
I’d let you snap that photo
Of every gasoline drenched timber
Alight with the last desires of wood.
Each crackle,
A pained scream of delight,
Knowing a pile of burnt ashes
Would leave no recourse
But to remember me whole.

Instead you perpetuate
My decrepit state,
Blow up to 8 by 10,
Zoom and study
Each bent, black nail
With heads rusted off.
Magnify the cracks in my foundation,
Investigate the droop of my door
On wobbled hinges.

Is this picture really worth
All my tears?
This is not a Kodak moment.
I want to be alone.

This was written for a prompt at Big Tent Poetry about revising an older poem. This is a drastic revision of a poem I did about a year ago. Actually, less of a revision and more of a new poem based on the old. It's from a different point of view than the original work, which you can find here, excuse the poor formatting. I couldn't get it right for some reason. Also, see the old poem below.

A home will
Eventually fall into forgotteness.
The wooden joists
Splinter off into breezes and rain.
The doors will
Fall away from their frames.
The floors will
Turn to grayed dust ruts.


  1. Well done, I like writing which tackles the POV of a (supposedly) inanimate object.

  2. This is a good reimagining/reworking. The different point of view works - and I like the voice of the house - and the thoughts it expresses.


  3. I really like what you did with it. You gave the building a voice and allowed the reader to empathize with it.

  4. I see this as a wonderful metaphor for life and totally enjoyed each piece.

  5. Thank you, li.
    Thanks, Richard. I'm glad I reworked it.
    Thanks, Mouse and Tumblewords.

  6. Mike, I much prefer the revision from the different point of view. Nice!


  7. I like the reference to the way an older person might feel who is being kept alive. Great job.

  8. a kodak moment is the great way to preserve the moment, like the way u have brought this feeling out, I can almost identify with it..nice :))

  9. Henry, Thanks. I never thought of it like that. I love when people can get things out of my poems that I never intended.

  10. Cathy, thanks.

    Pam, I agree. But I still like the old poem. I think I have two completely different things here.

    Pushpee, thanks so much.